


On Reflection

by Pyrasaur



Category: Mother 3
Genre: Drama, Gen, soul searching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 00:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyrasaur/pseuds/Pyrasaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, they said, looking to each other. Zoom. Boing. Dusty Boy had a hurt, but he was bright-bright in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Reflection

     He didn't wake up right away. Sounds swam around him, like he was at the dark bottom of a lake. Duster knew he had been fighting and he couldn't place why, not until he pried his eyes open to see a sliver of floor -- then he felt the full weight of his own sore body, bound in place with something wall-solid at his back. He was tied up. And he remembered losing.  
     Well, Duster decided, slow as melting tar. He was pretty sure he was still in Saturn Valley. And his head was probably spinning from somebody whacking him with the butt of one of those raygun things. He should try not to pass out again, just in case he had a concussion. That seemed like the best thing to do. Everything else on him felt bruised and water-weak, but still in one piece. His fingers and toes all wiggled. It could have been worse, considering how many Pigmasks he remembered: dozens and dozens, closing in so tight Duster couldn't lift his arms to throw, couldn't set up for a strike, couldn't even tell where they were all _coming_ from--

     "Answer me! Where is it?!"

     A muffled voice. Duster tensed and he wasn't sure why, not yet.

     "Already told. Ding."

     The sage warbling of a Mr. Saturn. It shot through Duster and he understood everything -- the Mr. Saturns were still in danger, their whole valley taken by siege. Armies of Pigmasks. Lucas and Kumatora and Boney and everyone, _everyone_ still out there somewhere. He was so worried he hurt, all of a sudden. He looked toward the voices and his vision swam, trying to keep up.

     "That wasn't an answer! I've never heard of a place called Dakota!"  
     Silence. Mr. Saturns dangled around him; one was unflinching, staring up at the Pigmask soldiers.  
This whole thing wasn't going to end well. That much was clear. Duster focused -- like he had during his old training exercises, pushing away all the distractions and fatigue -- and thought about whether he could escape. Tried possibilities in his head like testing the weight of new tools. Wondered if he could bring down that Pigmask and his grunts before they could unholster their guns.

     No, he decided. He probably wouldn't succeed, alone and already beaten up. It might just make those Pigmasks mad. He didn't know what they might do to the Mr. Saturns if they really got mad.

 

      _Wess led him through the ink-dark night, and the two of them walked and walked for what felt like forever. Duster's leg began to hurt. Maybe it hurt more often because he'd been growing lately, taller and lankier; it seemed like he was going to be a man soon. For now, he tried his best to keep up._  
     They were going to another village, Wess said in his most learned tone. It was a strange village. A truly bizarre village, some might say -- baffling, even. But the villagers there were uncannily wise. It was said that they knew secrets more ancient than time itself, and that they could travel anywhere in the blink of an eye. These villagers stood ready to aid those who would fight evil. Mr. Saturn was the name spoken when everything good and true cried out in fright ... Or something along those lines.  
     They were still walking. Duster tried to drag enough air into his lungs, and tried to take long enough strides. It took him a moment to stop, let his vision stop twirling, and notice Wess standing at the crest of the dune. A tall, proud thief looking down at his crippled son. He might have been frowning; the darkness hid his face.  
     The Mr. Saturns had a hot spring, Wess said, muttered like a grudge. It would do that leg some good. Come on, Duster; they were nearly there.

 

     He couldn't do anything about this, not right now. So he waited, hoping he'd know the right time when it came, following other people's voices.

     "Looks like they're not going to tell us that easily," one of the Pigmasks said after a while. He turned toward something square and shiny. "Alright! You asked for it!"  
     The machine thing -- _robot_ , Duster remembered, finding it an unnatural word -- began to talk in an awful, grating voice. Duster lost the thread of the story a few times, but the parts he understood sent chills trickling down his spine. It was a story like he had never heard before and he wanted to look under all the furniture because things might be hiding there. The Mr. Saturns whimpered; one kicked, spinning and still stuck.  
     With a click, the robot stopped talking. It was quiet except for dull-thumping Pigmask boots.  
     "You'd better talk," the Pigmask said darkly, looming over each Mr. Saturn in turn. "There's more of the story. Those teenagers go _inside_ the abandoned hot dog factory ..."

     Duster didn't want to see whatever was going to happen. He jerked his eyes away and pointed them at the floor. And he thought.  
     The moment before the attack had felt like it was over too fast, the way deciding moments always did. Dozens of Pigmasks. Swarms of the higher-ranking ones moving in neat, vicious file, like they had been specially trained. Maybe using some Thunder Bombs would have helped, if the Mr. Saturns hadn't been standing innocently everywhere.  
     He took the deepest breath the ropes would allow him. He decided, leaden in his heart, that he couldn't have done anything to stop this. Even if he had a hundred chances to try it over again. That was terrible, but Duster was pretty sure it was true.

     The Pigmask's voice took on a sudden thunder. "What about him?" He moved like raising an arm to point.  
     "Dusty Man?"  
     Duster looked up at the sound of his name -- well, not quite his name, but it felt the same when Mr. Saturns said it. Everyone wobbled in his vision, like coloured corks on water.  
     "He doesn't know. Nobody is knowing, not anywhere."  
     The other Mr. Saturns murmured thin agreeements: _nobody knowing, boing._  
     They were lying. They promised Duster they'd tell where the Needle was, whenever Lucas arrived, whenever the time came. It felt weird to remember a time everyone in this village sat peacefully, feeling like evil was still a world away. And it felt weird to hear his new friends telling untruths about him -- kind untruths.

     Duster wished the Pigmasks would bother him, instead. At least he actually didn't know where the Needle was; it would be like protecting everything and everyone, if he could at least be a distraction. He tried to swallow -- his mouth was suddenly dried up like glue. He thought he should speak. He didn't know what to say.

 

      _Mr. Saturns were definitely the strangest people Duster had ever met. But he hadn't met very many people, he supposed, and the Mr. Saturns were friendly so it was okay that they were strange. They called Wess_ Thiefy Man _and then turned their button-bright eyes to Duster._  
     He didn't really pay attention to what Wess was talking about. He just thought, wow, I've never met anyone like these guys _as a bunch of Mr. Saturns waddled up to him, beaming and twitching their whiskers like this was a grand and exciting day. Duster stood there, leaning awkward onto his good side, feeling too tall._  
     Dusty Boy, one said! Finally arrived here for visiting. Mr. Saturn am me. All are Mr. Saturn here. Welcome, welcome!  
     Worryment, one cried! Had a bendy, limpy thing for a leg! Did he have need of doctoring? Journey very bad?  
     No, Duster said. Well, actually ... What he meant was that his leg always looked like this. Please don't worry.  
     The Mr. Saturns kept looking; Duster wished they wouldn't, or at least that everything wouldn't be so smotheringly quiet while they all stared. One waddled closer, to tilt his head and nudge Duster's calf with his nose.  
     Fixing, one asked?  
     Make it clanky, another tried?  
     Mmm, the nudging Mr. Saturn wondered. Maybe. Or maybe not possible. How did the bending happen?  
     He didn't like thinking about that leg. It made something cold and slick curl up inside his chest. It made him think about the future and think that he might not be good enough, even though he had _to be good enough._  
     Well, Duster said, he didn't really know what happened to his leg. But he knew it was an accident. And he knew he was going to be a thief, no matter what.  
     Oh, they said, looking to each other. Zoom. Boing. Dusty Boy had a hurt, but he was bright-bright in the future.  
     It sounded sad; it sounded like they understood.

 _The Mr. Saturns showed him to the hot springs and brought him weird-tasting coffee to drink. The whole time Duster was soaking, he wondered what_ make it clanky _meant and whether he should want that to happen. He couldn't decide, but the spring water boiled his aches away._

 

     None of the made-up answers were good enough for the Pigmasks. The robot screeched and talked and _talked_ and its stories just got worse. Time went soft in Duster's memory and after a while, through his headache, he realized he couldn't piece this whole interrogation together anymore. He must have passed out again, at some point, or maybe at a few different points. Seemed like he just couldn't help that, either.

     He woke up for sure when he heard PSI, those low crackling sounds that didn't seem like they came in through his ears at all. Kumatora and Lucas were there, and Boney barked, and the Pigmasks yelled. His friends were here to help and before Duster knew what was happening, all the rope was gone and he was on his knees, boneless, free.  
     Kumatora said his name, light and fond. Lucas was quietly there. Cold wetness touched his ankle where Boney snuffled at his pant leg.  
     He knew too much, and he had forgotten too much. He really had no idea whether his legs would hold him. But he was so relieved to see his friends' faces in his swimming vision, he couldn't help but get to his feet.

 

     It was a relief to have everything back to normal. Mr. Saturns wandered around enjoying the sunshine, and gave weird but true answers to everything they were asked. While his friends took care of supplies for the trip ahead, Duster looked down at a Mr. Saturn nudging his leg; this one looked a little more familiar than the others.  
     "All better? All cured?"  
     "Yeah," Duster said. "I'm okay now." Thanks to Lucas's incredible healing powers, he didn't even feel like he needed a nap.  
     The Mr. Saturn nodded. "Good good. All in Saturn Valley be giving thanks at you. We have so much squishy feelings full of grateful."  
     His hands fell open, helpless; if only he could just take his own feelings out and show them. "Mr. Saturn. I wish I could have stopped those Pigmasks ... What they did to the people of this valley was awful."  
     Whiskers drooping, head slowly shaking, the Mr. Saturn said, "No. Not for you to say sorries. Dusty Man gave very brave defendings. Tried hard. But bad evils coming everywhere, maybe no one can know, no one can preventing. Things and happenings! Chosen time will be here when it getting here. This am true, always and always."  
     That was what Duster thought, too. Destiny didn't seem to tell anyone when it was going to show up; people just had to wait for it and have faith. He hummed, and nodded.  
     "Me still thinking," Mr. Saturn said, carefully, "That Mr. Saturns could make your bendy leg better. Make it clanky. Fixing all up for kicking with! Ding! Hard without the doctor man, but we can get more learning, we can do."  
     Duster's breath caught; he wondered about that for a long, careful moment. "Make it clanky ...?" He still didn't know what that meant. He wasn't sure he was supposed to know. "I just don't know ... I don't think we have time right now, anyway. I have to help Lucas find the Needles."  
     "Hurrying is important! Zoom zoom. But Dusty Man should give it a slow time for thinking. If you need, we can do. Maybe later, when all people have a happy time and sunny sky, Mr. Saturn can fixing you up. Understand?"  
     This little guy had been thinking for years, maybe drawing on all the ancient secrets Mr. Saturns held safe. This old friend had the shimmer of ideas in his eyes; it made Duster wonder what it felt like to be a fixed person. It made him wonder what kind of a thief he could really be. It was a lot to weigh out; he couldn't even tell where to start.  
     "I'll ... I'll think about it," Duster said. His voice stuck dry in his throat. "Thanks."  
     "Always here for helping," Mr. Saturn warbled. "Always smiling! Zoom! Happy Mr. Saturns!" He paused; he eyed Duster like looking for gold flecks in sand. "We give coffee time before you go. Drinking all up! Maybe knowing will fly into Dusty Man and friends."

     In the hot springs, Kumatora told him about some of the stuff that had happened while Duster was gone, and Lucas smiled at the memories. They talked for a warm while, and then let the coffee break do its relaxing work.

 

     Duster didn't figure much out that day, but he followed Lucas out of the valley, now with a vague idea of where to go.

     He wondered how old he'd be by the time he understood everything.


End file.
